Under The Dark Mark
by hp1piececraziness
Summary: This is the story of several Death Eaters who went to school during the Marauder-era. This story focuses on Barty Crouch Jr., but it's told from multiple perspectives. It focuses on the events during the Marauder-era/First Wizarding War, but it will include some of the Second Wizarding War at the end. Please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome also, but no flames!
1. A Few Not So Pleasant Childhood Memories

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling!**

**Author's Note: This story kind of goes along with my other story, Mosmordre: The Assassin, but you don't have to read both stories to understand what's going on. The characters are pretty much the same, except there's a lot less of Draco, and the both stories are from the Death Eater perspective, so the Order of the Phoenix members/Aurors are the main villains. Barty Couch Jr. is not insane and evil in this story (but he's definitely not a saint either). **

**Enjoy, and please review!**

Chapter 1 – Barty Crouch Jr.

_A Few Not-So-Pleasant Childhood Memories_

Most of the time, when I use magic, someone gets hurt. It's been that way ever since I can remember; I think that that's just part of being Barty Crouch Junior. During my time at Hogwarts, I controlled my magical abilities as much as I could and I tried to use magic only for academic purposes. After my time at Hogwarts, I had a real reason to use magic in an offensive way (we'll talk about that later). Before my time at Hogwarts, when I used magic, it was unintentional.

I started showing signs of magical ability when I was about two years old. That wasn't at all surprising since I came from a pureblood family. For a pureblood family, my parents and I lived in an area full of Muggles. I never got along with the Muggle children, and horrible things often happen to people whom I don't get along with.

I never tried to socialize with them. Why would I want to? I found most of the Muggle children that lived near my family's home dull and rather stupid. When I was about seven years old, I enjoyed being alone in the garden in front of my family's house. It was a great place to test out my magical abilities. I could barely control them at the time, but I could make a few branches on the trees move when there was no wind and I could make small objects float about an inch in the air.

One day, a group of Muggle children saw me doing magic. They were trying to watch me without being noticed, but they really weren't discreet about it at all. They kept muttering and whispering things to each other, and after a while it got extremely annoying. So, I went up to them to tell them to go away, but when I did they started pestering me about how I made a pile of rocks float or shift around without going near them.

The first time that it happened, I simply told them that they wouldn't understand. The next day they were back, and they asked me non-stop to teach them how to levitate objects. I responded by saying that they could never do anything involving magic because they were Muggles, so it would be impossible for me to teach them anything. They didn't know what "Muggle" meant, and when I mentioned the word "magic" they became even more interested.

They returned day after day, until I yelled at them to leave me alone. They didn't listen and that resulted in them being hit by a number of pebbles that somehow flew right off the ground. I didn't mean to throw anything at them, although when I look back, I'm glad that I did.

The Muggle children reacted as though I had hurled boulders at them. I don't think the pebbles even hurt them, but they started shrieking and screaming so loudly that my father came outside to see what the fuss was all about.

Immediately, the Muggles started to babble on and on about how I'd "hurt them". My father listened to them for a few minutes before quickly using a few memory charms on them. Afterwards, he dragged me back inside and started lecturing me about using magic around Muggles and how I had distracted him from some very important paperwork.

I didn't really mind the lecture all that much; I was used to him ranting about those sorts of things by then. I didn't use magic outside in the garden anymore, but that didn't mean that the Muggles left me alone.

I still enjoyed going to the garden, not that there was anything fascinating there. I mainly went there to get away from my father; believe me, you'd do the same thing if you had to live with someone who's cares more about getting a promotion at the Ministry than his own son.

A group of Muggle boys were walking near the garden one day.I was eight. They didn't confront me, but they began talking about me amongst themselves. I didn't like what they were saying at all (well, no one really enjoys being called a "lonely freak") and people don't usually get away with saying things about me that I don't approve of. I don't know why they thought that they could talk about me in such a way when I was within ear-shot of them. It was a truly idiotic idea and I quickly made that clear to them.

There was a loud snap and a branch from the tree above the Muggle boys came crashing down. It hit them directly on their heads. It wasn't a very large branch, but it still gave them some pretty bad bruises. They yelled out in pain.

One of them looked at me, but had to look away after a few seconds. I could give a person a look of pure rancor that could make them feel very nervous, even at the age of eight. That is a skill that I still have to this day, and I'm quite proud of it.

I admit, that there was probably a better way to deal with the Muggles, but as I have stated before, I had little control over my magical abilities at the time. They were lucky that I didn't accidentally drop something heavier on them. Anger always sparked my magical abilities. That's the way it is with most magical children.

Just like my previous encounter with Muggle children, their screaming was heard by my father, who stormed out, modified the memories of the Muggle boys and dragged me into his office by the ear. It was Saturday, that day, so he wasn't at his office at the Ministry of Magic.

My father's office was a dismal room. It had a desk with way too many drawers, two chairs, stacks of paperwork, a bookshelf full of books with the dreariest topics, and a large grey owl named Troy. Troy strongly resembled my father. They were both spiteful, old, and had a perpetual tired expression.

As I stated earlier, my father's work meant everything to him, and if anyone disturbed his work, he completely lost his mind. I was only half listening to what he was saying that day and I don't remember exactly what happened. I usually only pretend that I'm listening to diatribes. All I know is that it started with my father ranting about my carelessness and how I could have lost him his job if he had to keep performing memory charms on Muggles that I hurt (I think that was a huge exaggeration) and it ended with him striking me across the face.

These are probably the most interesting things that happened to me before Hogwarts. I kept to myself and spent most of my time in my room away from my family. The lack of excitement in my life frustrated me, but believe me, that all changed with the arrival of my acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	2. Three Owls

Chapter 2 – James Avery

_Three Owls_

I've never understood why post owls always deliver the mail so early in the morning, nor have I ever understood why they must be so noisy. The other thing about post owls is that they will not leave until you notice that you have mail and they become very impatient and loud if you keep them waiting.

Now _one _owl can already make quite a racket if you don't notice it immediately._ Three _owls can make a cacophony of hoots and screeches loud enough to wake up an entire family. There's only one thing more irritating than a trio of noisy owls: a trio of screeching owls that come to your bedroom window at 5:00 in the morning to deliver three letters.

It was August, so Hogwarts letters were arriving. Mulciber and I were going to be in our third year, so we had to choose the two electives we wished to take. We had been discussing our options for a while. Mulciber seemed to somehow still be asleep despite the owls, so I quietly got out of bed and took the mail from the owls.

I headed over to my bed to try to get some more sleep, but I tripped over a pile of books that had been left on the floor before I got there. I stumbled and hit my head on the edge of a chair. Cursing, I looked up to see Mulciber staring down at me.

Mulciber was my adoptive brother. He came to live with my family when we were both very young because his parents were killed by members of an organization called the Order of the Phoenix. We never talked about it, and at that time, neither of us was completely sure what the Order of the Phoenix was.

Mulciber had dark brown, slightly wavy hair that grew quickly and dark piercing eyes. He had a seemingly cold disposition, but once you got to know him, and if he decided to be friendly to you, he was actually a pleasant person to be around.

"What did you trip over this time?" he asked, helping me up.

"A few books that I think _you_ left on the floor," I answered.

Mulciber shrugged. "You're pretty clumsy to begin with," he said. "I bet that you would have tripped on something else if those books hadn't been there."

"Well, you didn't have to leave _your_ books in _my_ room," I said. "What were they even doing here?"

"I like to read," Mulciber said, shrugging again and sitting down on the edge of my bed. "And your room is a nice place to read, James. I heard owls. Did we get our letters?"

"I think so," I replied. "And _do not_ call me James. I can't stand that name ever since I met James Potter."

Mulciber started to look through the mail that the owls had brought.

"You're right," he said, handing me the letter with my name on it. "The other thing that the owls delivered is today's _Daily Prophet_."

I sat down next to him, and we both stared at the newspaper. The headline was "Death Eater Caught Torturing Auror." I skimmed through the article. Apparently, an Auror named Nathaniel Proudfoot had been assaulted in his house by a Death Eater, who had been caught by the Ministry. Mulciber and I looked at each other.

"Do you think that they know that your dad's a Death Eater?" Mulciber asked in a whisper. He had been living with us for as long as I could remember, but he still referred to my parents as "your dad", "your mom", or "Mr. and Mrs. Avery."

"I highly doubt it," I replied. "I mean, he's never gotten caught on one of his missions before."

That wasn't entirely the truth. He had been suspected once before. I wasn't sure whether Mulciber remembered that time because we were both so young. Years had passed and there had been no real evidence found that my father was a Death Eater, so the Ministry decided that he wasn't one. That was a relief because they stopped searching our house and monitoring our family.

Mulciber paused before asking, "When do you think that _we_ are going to become Death Eaters?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Probably not until we graduate Hogwarts, but for now, all we have to do is keep everything a secret."

Mulciber nodded.

"I've been thinking," he said slowly. "I think that a lot of the people that we met last year in Slytherin have parents who are Death Eaters also."

"We can't risk telling them," I said in a serious tone.

"Of course I wouldn't tell them," said Mulciber in that slightly condescending tone of his. "I just think that judging by the way they talk, the way they act, how much knowledge they have of the Dark Arts, most of our friends in Slytherin probably have Death Eater relatives."

"Except for Severus," I said. "He's half-blood."

"Yeah, I figured that out by myself, Avery," said Mulciber. "But that doesn't mean that he's not going to become a Death Eater in the future."

"So, are you saying that most of the people in Slytherin House are going to become Death Eaters like us?" I asked.

"Well, I think that quite a few of them will be Death Eaters in about five years," said Mulciber. "That is unless they come from a family that's the opposite of ours."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"I'm talking about people who come from families that work in the Ministry catching Dark Wizards," replied Mulciber. "You know, like the children of Aurors or anyone who works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Well, _obviously_, they wouldn't become Death Eaters," I said. "Why are you even bringing that up?"

Mulciber shrugged again and responded with his usual, "I was just thinking."


	3. The Letter Comes At Last

Chapter 3 – Barty Crouch Jr.

_The Letter Comes At Last_

It's 6:00 in the morning when the owl arrives. I could barely sleep that night because my father had mentioned that Hogwarts letters would be arriving sometime in the morning. So, I had stayed awake for nearly the whole night thinking about the classes I would be taking and which house I'd be in.

My mother was in Hufflepuff and my father was in Ravenclaw, but I wasn't hoping for either of those houses. I hadn't told any of my family members or even my family's house elf, Winky, about which house I was hoping to be sorted into, and that was because I was hoping to be in Slytherin.

Since Slytherins were known for becoming Dark Wizards and Witches, and my father was obsessed with arresting anyone who practiced the Dark Arts, I think you can see why I hadn't told my family. Despite the bad reputation that Slytherin had, I had read about the different traits people in certain houses had; "cunning", "tenacious", and "ambitious" sounded pretty good to me.

When the owl landed on my windowsill, I immediately let it inside, took the letter and ripped it open before the owl even began to fly away. I threw the torn envelope aside carelessly and eagerly began to read the letter. My bedroom wasn't exactly neat to begin with, so a ripped envelope wouldn't make that much of a difference. Luckily, neither of my parents went into my room that often; I knew that my father, who liked everything organized and tidy, would have a fit if he saw my room.

I usually didn't get mail. Well, few people knew that I actually existed, so I never really expected to get letters, but this one was clearly addressed to me and I had been waiting for it almost my whole life. I read through the first page within seconds and went on to the list of supplies that I would need.

The school would allow me to have an owl, cat or toad. I wanted an owl, but I knew that my father thought it pointless for me to have my own owl. First years, weren't allowed to bring their own broomsticks, but that didn't matter to me. I had no experience with riding one at the time anyway.

What really made me excited was the thought that I could finally have my own wand. I had longed for a wand since I first saw adult wizards use magic. Despite not having one, I knew many things about charms and other spells. I thought about being able to perform all of those charms and, although I knew that most of them probably weren't allowed at Hogwarts, curses someday.

Even as a child, I had a desire to learn a variety of curses. They seemed useful, but the other reason that I wanted to learn them was that there were a few people that I wished I could curse(mainly the Muggles who I knew had been talking about me behind my back and some of the extremely irritating Ministry officials that often came to our house for dinner).

My father claimed that he did not approve of curses unless they were used for defensive purposes, but that was pretty hypocritical since he had authorized Aurors to use Unforgivable Curses against Dark Wizards. Once, I had asked him about it and he had told me that Dark Wizards deserved to have Unforgivable Curses used on them because of the crimes they had committed. However, there were a few cases where Aurors had killed suspected Dark Wizards with the Killing Curse, and, to me, there didn't really seem like there was enough evidence that the person killed had been guilty.

There was also the thrilling idea of meeting other magical children. I'd never really been around any magical children, with the exception of the children of important Ministry officials that I met when my father invited their families over for dinner. They didn't really want to talk to me, and they were only slightly more interesting than the Muggle children. I hoped that the other students in my house wouldn't be like that. I hoped that maybe they would be a little out of the ordinary.

I showed the letter to my father later that day. He didn't really seem to care much. As usual, he was irritated that I had interrupted his work. The next day, he would be going back to his office at the Ministry of Magic and I wouldn't see much of him. I was happy about that.

He told me that we would go to Diagon Alley the next weekend to buy my school supplies and he sent a letter saying that I would be attending Hogwarts. He also made sure to tell me that I could not have an owl before I could even bring up the subject, not that I would have asked him about getting an owl anyway; I wasn't stupid.

I would start school on September 1st. "That's less than a month away," I kept thinking to myself. "Less than a month away until you can have a break from this meaningless life… less than a month away until things change."


	4. Meeting Mulciber and Avery

**Author's note: I finally managed to finish writing this chapter. I ran into a several writer's blocks.**

Chapter 4 – Barty Crouch Jr.

Nothing memorable happened during the arrival of my Hogwarts acceptance letter and the weekend that I went to Diagon Alley. Unless you want to hear my father's harangue about the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, I think that I will skip telling you about that week.

Unfortunately, my father was the one taking me to Diagon Alley. I didn't understand why I couldn't go alone at the time. True, I was eleven and there could have been Dark Wizards prowling around on the streets, but being abducted by Dark Wizards probably wouldn't have been much worse than being around my father.

For once, he talked to me willingly, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. For days before our trip to Diagon Alley and on the day of our trip, he was constantly lecturing me about staying out of trouble at Hogwarts. Ever since those nasty little incidents with the Muggle children, he had been under the impression that I _wanted_ to use my magical abilities to hurt people. At that time, he was wrong.

We arrived at the Leaky Cauldron via Floo Powder. At the barrier separating Diagon Alley from the rest of the Leaky Cauldron, there were two girls. One looked like she was my age; the other looked to be a few years older.

The older girl was obviously in Gryffindor, and she was proud of it. Although school wouldn't start for another month, she was dressed in her Gryffindor school robes. She had very neat, short, brown hair that contrasted greatly with her blue eyes and she wore an unnecessary amount of make-up.

The other girl had long dark brown hair and determined brown eyes. She was wearing an old pair of comfortable looking robes and she was carrying around a list of school supplies.

"You're doing it wrong, Evelyn," said the younger girl. "Let me try."

She reached out to take the older girl's wand. The older girl quickly lifted it out of reach.

"Stop it, Sky," she said. "I can do it. I did it before last year."

"You're tapping the wrong bricks!" said Sky. She turned and saw me and my father.

"There're people waiting to get through the barrier," she said. "Move over, Evelyn. I bet that they can do it correctly."

My father walked past them and tapped a few of the bricks on the wall in front of us with his wand. Immediately, the bricks began to shift until a long passageway was revealed.

"See, you _were_ doing it wrong, Evelyn," said Sky. She turned to my father.

"Thank you, sir," she said cheerfully.

My father muttered something that sounded like, "Your welcome." before going down the passageway and beckoning to me to follow.

Diagon Alley was lined with shops selling every magical item that I could think of. The streets were crowded with wizards and witches. I stopped for a few seconds to get a glimpse of a couple of owls perched on a stand outside, but hurried along quickly when my father yelled at me, "Stop wasting time! We needed to get to Flourish and Blotts!"

Well, that was truly hypocritical of him to say that, because when we got to Flourish and Blotts and finished buying my textbooks, he got engaged in a conversation with one of his colleagues about the Ministry, which I am sure took more time than me looking at the owls. The conversation was interrupted when a boy carrying a tall pile of books tripped and crashed into my father.

The boy had pointed features and sandy brown hair that covered his eyes. He looked slightly older than me. My father looked down at him disapprovingly. The boy hastily got to his feet.

"Sorry, sir," he said quickly. "I… I…"

"You should be more careful," said the Ministry official whom my father had been talking to.

"Yes, sir," replied the boy.

He bent down again to gather his books together. My father resumed his conversation with the Ministry official. Another boy came along. He looked to be about the same age as the boy who had tripped. He had dark hair and piercing eyes.

"Nice job, Avery," he said to the boy who had fallen. "You just ran into the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Now we're both going to Azkaban."

"Shut up, Mulciber," said the boy called Avery.

Mulciber ignored him. He turned to face me.

"Are you going to Hogwarts this year?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "How did you…"

"I don't know, you just look like a first year," he said, shrugging. "Which house do you want to be in?"

"I don't know," I lied. I wasn't going to mention my wish to be in Slytherin when I was within earshot of my father.

"Well, I'm in Slytherin," said Mulciber. "And so is Avery here."

"Yeah, and I'm on the Quidditch Team," added Avery.

"I don't know how that happened," muttered Mulciber. "You keep falling off your broomstick."

"I'm good at catching Quaffles," said Avery indignantly. "And I only fell off a few times."

"Anyway," said Mulciber turning back to me. "Believe me; you want to be in Slytherin House."

"I'm not really sure which house I should be in," I said.

"It depends," said Mulciber. "If you're interested in knowledge, you belong in Ravenclaw. If you're just plain ordinary, you belong in Hufflepuff. If you're a git who's really full of themselves, you belong in Gryffindor. If you consider yourself skilled and destined for fame, you belong in Slytherin. It's as simple as that."

I nodded. I liked the idea of being "destined for fame" and "skilled" very much.

"Can you ask the Sorting Hat for a certain house?" I asked.

Mulciber was about to answer, but he didn't get a chance to.

"Barty," said my father. "We have to get going now."

Mulciber glanced at my father, and then said, "I'll see you at Hogwarts. I hope you get your wish and get sorted into Slytherin."

"Barty, hurry up!" yelled my father, who was waiting impatiently by the door.

"Thanks," I said to Mulciber and Avery. "Good-bye, I have to go…"

With that, I left with my father for Ollivanders Wand Shop, hoping that he hadn't heard Mulciber mention that I wanted to be in Slytherin.


	5. More Talk About Slytherin

**Author's Note: This chapter was kind of interesting for me to write, because it talks a bit about how Slytherin has a bad reputation. Slytherin is my favorite house, probably because my favorite characters are in Slytherin and I like most of Slytherin House's traits. A lot of people are kind of shocked that I prefer Slytherin to Gryffindor, in the same way that they're shocked that I never liked the Order very much.**

**Anyway, you're probably bored with this author's note right now so here's Chapter 5. If you have any comments, please review, but no flames! **

Chapter 5 – Barty Crouch Jr.

_More Talk about Slytherin_

I was sitting on the side of my bed, examining my wand which I had gotten the previous day. Even though I knew that my father had forbade me to touch my wand until I went to Hogwarts, I couldn't restrain from grabbing it. I had closed my door, but it wasn't locked. Locking it would just make my father suspicious. All I could do was hope that he wouldn't come bursting in without knocking.

My wand was about twelve inches long. It was made out of the wood of a cherry tree and had a phoenix feather core. I didn't dare to try to use it, in case it made something break and my father came to investigate.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. I jumped, expecting to see my father, ready to make up some excuse for touching my wand.

Instead, I found my family's House-elf, Winky, standing in the doorway, peeking into my bedroom. Relieved, I almost forgot that I was still clutching my wand. Winky's eyes widened when she saw it.

"Young Master Barty is not to be touching his wand," she said in a high pitched voice. "Young Master Barty ought to be listening to his father."

"I forgot that I wasn't supposed to touch it," I lied. "Um, Winky, please don't tell my father about this anyway."

I placed my wand carefully on my bedside table. Winky looked worried. I knew that my father had told her to inform him if she saw me doing anything wrong. It was extremely difficult for Winky when my father and I gave her conflicting orders. Unfortunately for me, her loyalty usually lay with my father. I just hoped that she wouldn't start hitting her head against the wall like she sometimes did under those circumstances.

"Young Master Barty's father wishes to meet Young Master in his study," Winky squeaked, glancing at my wand. "He wishes to have a word with Young Master."

"Why?" I asked nervously. Typically, when my father wanted to "have a word" with me in his study, it meant that I was going to be lectured and punished for something, but I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong that my father knew of.

Winky shook her head.

"Winky does not know why," she said. "But Young Master's father wants him to come right now."

The "right now" part of what she said made me even more uneasy about why my father wanted to see me. Reluctantly, I followed her downstairs to my father's study. I knocked on the door.

"Come in," came my father's voice.

I entered. Winky stayed outside the door looking slightly anxious. My mother was in the study also, which put me at ease a little. If I was going to be punished for something, the punishment probably wouldn't be too harsh if my mother was around; she was much kinder than my father, who was seated at his desk.

"Why did you want to see me?" I asked.

"I heard one of the boys we met at Flourish and Blotts say something about you wanting to be in Slytherin," said my father.

"He was just assuming that," I said quickly. That wasn't a complete lie. Mulciber _had_ assumed that I wanted to be in Slytherin; however he had been completely right.

"Don't interrupt me," said my father. "Your mother and I were wondering whether or not you do for some reason wish to be in Slytherin."

"I don't really want to be in Slytherin," I said. "I really have no idea what house I want to be in."

It was a horrible lie and my father saw right through it. I was terrible at lying at the time. That was another thing that would change in the future.

"Don't lie to me, boy," said my father sternly. "Why in the world do you want to be in Slytherin?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came.

"Well?" said my father impatiently.

"I… I don't know," I said quietly. "Why do you want to discuss it?"

"You do realize that Slytherin is the house that most Dark Wizards come from," said my father.

I nodded.

"I don't think that you need to be under the influence of a bunch of young criminals at Hogwarts," continued my father. "Seeing, that you already cause enough trouble without being influenced by anyone."

"What if I can't control which house I get sorted into?" I asked. "What if I do get sorted into Slytherin?"

"That would be fine," said my mother. "We'll still be very proud. Just, try not to aim for that particular house, Barty."

"Okay, I won't," I said.

There was one thing that I knew about lying then:

It is much easier to tell short lies.

My parents seemed convinced enough. My father turned back to his desk.

"You may go now, Barty," he said.

I left, relieved that that had been all my parents wanted to discuss. I didn't know what had been so important about it. The fact that they thought that I would become a Dark Wizard was pretty ridiculous to me. That idea would become much less absurd later in my life.


	6. Arrested

**Author's Note: I will be starting school in about a week. Once school starts, I will not be able to update as often; however I will continue to update all of my stories.**

**This isn't the best chapter in the story, but the chapters after this are better. If you have any comments, please review, but ****no flames****! **

Chapter 6 – James Avery

_Arrested_

Severus Snape had come over to our house. There were only a few days left until we started school, so he planned to stay with us until we all went to King's Cross Station.

Mulciber and I had been friends with Snape since our first year at Hogwarts, but this had been the first time that he had come over to our home. There was one simple reason for that: Snape was half-blood.

Snape's mother was a witch and his father was a Muggle. That didn't really both me and Mulciber, but I knew that my parents would not approve of having someone whose father was a Muggle in their house. Neither of us had mentioned it to Severus, but he had figured it out and brought it up.

Severus wanted to get away from his family, and I thought that he could take refuge with us for a while. We had eventually decided to tell my parents that Severus had a witch and a wizard for parents, but his father was the son of a wizard and a Muggle.

I had suggested saying that Severus was pureblood. I thought that it was a much less complicated lie, but Mulciber had thought that it wouldn't be as realistic of a lie. Severus was also quite proud of being half-blood.

Either way, my parents believed us and agreed to let Snape stay for the remaining days of summer.

Mulciber and I had opened our Hogwarts letters a few weeks ago, and I had found out that I had been appointed Quidditch Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Mulciber and Snape congratulated me, however they were clearly surprised.

"All of the good players must have graduated," said Mulciber, shaking his head. "We're not going to have a chance again Gryffindor this year."

"Shut up," I said. "I only dropped the Quaffle a few times. You don't play Quidditch, so you don't know how hard…"

"And you also came close to falling off your broom during the game against Ravenclaw last year," sneered Mulciber.

"I was trying to avoid a Bludger!" I said.

Snape opened his mouth to say something, but just then, there was a knock at the door. Mulciber and I looked at each other. My family wasn't expecting any visitors that day and we rarely had unexpected visitors.

"I'll get it," said Mulciber.

"I'll come with you," I said.

We opened a door and saw a stern looking man.

"Are your parents home?" He asked.

"Yes," I said nervously.

"I'm an Auror from the Ministry," said the man in a brusque, bored voice. "Tell your parents that I wish to see them."

Mulciber went to get my parents, leaving me at the doorway with the stern Auror. I glanced at Snape, who looked surprised.

After a few minutes, my parents came down.

"Mr. and Mrs. Avery," said the Auror. "I wish to have a private word with you."

Snape, Mulciber and I took the hint and left the room. Upstairs, we waited in Mulciber's bedroom, wondering what the Auror had come for. We all knew that when an Auror suddenly arrived at your door and demanded to see your parents so curtly, it probably wasn't good news.

"Your dad works for the Ministry, right?" said Snape.

"Yes, but his job has nothing to do with the Auror office," I replied. Snape didn't know that the real reason my father was working at the Ministry was to spy for the Death Eaters.

"What do you think, Mulciber?" asked Snape.

Mulciber was reading. He didn't look up from his book. He had a habit of reading and ignoring everyone around him during tense situations.

"Mulciber?" said Snape.

"What?" murmured Mulciber, not looking up from his book.

"Why do you think that the Auror's here?" asked Snape again.

"I don't know," said Mulciber. "Ask, Avery. I'm reading."

Snape turned to look at me. I shrugged. Snape didn't know how anxious I became every time I saw an Auror. I had heard all sorts of stories about murders committed by Aurors. Even if I saw someone who looked like an Auror on the street, 50 feet away, I'd start fretting, so seeing an Auror at my doorstep was completely nerve-racking.

I could hear screaming. There was an argument going on downstairs. I was surprised by how calm Mulciber was. Or maybe he was just silently worrying. His face was hidden behind his book, so I couldn't tell how composed he was.

The shouting stopped, and after a few moments, we heard the front door being shut. There were footsteps. Someone was coming upstairs. The door to Mulciber's bedroom opened and my mother hurried inside. She looked pale and troubled. Mulciber put his book down.

"What happened with the Auror?" I asked nervously. "Where's father?"

My mother sighed and said, "Your father has been arrested."


End file.
